Up Against It
by SylvieT
Summary: Post-ep for 14.02 'Take the Money and Run'. Nick and Brass talk over breakfast. Few spoilers for the episode itself, but BIG spoilers for 13.20 'Skin in the Game' and 14.01 'The Devil and DB Russell'.


A/N: This is a post-ep for 14.02 _Take the Money and Run_. Nick and Brass talk over breakfast. Few spoilers for the episode itself, but bigger spoilers for 13.20 _Skin in the Game_ and 14.01 _The Devil and DB Russell._

Dialogue from the first scene is taken directly from 14.02_ Take the Money and Run_, and isn't mine. It's the scene in the locker room between Nick and Brass toward the end of the episode, which inspired this little oneshot, and is just a reminder.

* * *

Up Against It.

* * *

Brass: Hey, man. Got a second?

Nick: Yeah, sure. What's up?

Brass: I owe you an apology.

Nick: For what?

Brass: For jumping on you. For jumping on Akers. I talked to Akers and now I'm talking to you. I'm sorry.

Nick: Jim, I get it. You got a lot going on right now, okay?

Brass: Yeah. I got a lot going on, yeah. The DA's calling me to prosecute her. He wants to talk to me about testifying against my daughter. Yeah, I mean, I'm on the phone six or seven times a day to New Jersey handling my ex-wife's affairs.

Nick: Come on. Everything will be back to normal eventually, you know that.

Brass: Back to normal, I'd like that. But I tell you, Nick, the way my life's going right now…I don't know what normal is.

* * *

Silence stretched between them. Nick was at a loss for something to say. What could he tell Brass that would help? How did you help someone who over the years had become more than just a law-enforcement colleague, but wasn't quite a friend?

"Anyway, I got to go," Brass said, breaking the silence, and gave Nick a stiff smile and a nod. He swayed hesitantly on his feet before turning on his heels, headed out of the locker room.

Despite everything that was happening in his life right now the man still managed to keep it together, Nick thought as he stared at the spot the captain had just vacated. Sighing, he looked down at the black shirt he was still clutching in his hands and put it back on. His shower would have to wait. Pulling his jacket off the hanger, he picked up his wallet and cell, tucked both into his jacket pocket.

Brass had reached out to him, made the first step toward an apology that wasn't needed and under different circumstances most probably wouldn't have been offered, and he'd given him nothing back than fake reassurances. A picture of Warrick flashed into his mind, then of McKeen lying on the forest floor looking up at the barrel of his gun. He'd been so close then, so very close to crossing the line, to putting a bullet between that bastard's eyes and losing it all. Where would he be now if Brass hadn't stepped in and talked him out of ruining the rest of his life?

Brass was troubled, and understandably so. He was more than troubled, Nick argued with himself, he'd looked and sounded depressed and downcast, like everything was getting too much and he was ready to throw in the towel. His whole demeanour had been downhearted and defeatist. Without another thought and hoping Brass hadn't left already, Nick ran out of the locker room and ignoring the puzzled glances of his co-workers ran out of CSI, catching Brass up in the car lot, just as the captain was reaching his car.

"Jim, wait up!"

Car keys in hand, Brass stopped in his tracks and turned toward Nick jogging over to him.

"You off the clock?" Nick asked a little breathlessly when he reached his side.

"Yeah, I am," Brass said, in the same despondent tone he'd used moments ago. "I'm…headed home. Why?"

"Want to go grab some breakfast?"

Brass looked down at the key he was fingering. "Aren't you expected home?" he asked, looking up.

Nick gave Brass a wide smile. "Mandy's cool. So?"

Brass's weary eyes lit up. "I'd like that."

"Diner on the corner of South Decatur and Hacienda good for you?" Nick asked. "It's kind of...mid-way."

"Sure."

The two men climbed into their respective vehicles, deciding to make their own way there. Nick called home, told Mandy that he'd be a little while longer and to put his breakfast on hold, and briefly explained the situation with Brass. When he made it to the diner ten minutes later, Brass was already seated at a booth, perusing the menu.

He'd removed his suit jacket and tie, and had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, but the troubled look remained. An untouched black coffee was already cooling in front of him. Nick slid onto the opposite vinyl seat and picked up a second menu. Brass looked up, acknowledging his colleague's arrival with a nod before putting his menu down.

"We could have gone somewhere else," Nick said, pointing at Brass's coffee. "You look like you could do with something a little stronger."

"Trust me, I don't," Brass said, and gave Nick a small, sheepish smile.

The waitress came, coffeepot in hand. Turning Nick's cup over onto the saucer she lifted the coffeepot in his eye line. "So, what can I get you two gentlemen?" she asked brightly, eyes flicking between the two as Nick gave her the go-ahead and she poured his coffee.

"Ham, steak and eggs," Brass said. "Rare for the steak."

Nick pondered his choices before closing his menu. "And I'll have the Denver omelette. And a glass of OJ, please."

Brass smirked, but waited until the waitress had departed to ask, "Watching your figure?"

"Not so easy to keep the weight off anymore," Nick replied in an easy chuckle as he leaned back in his seat and patted the sides of his stomach.

"I hear you." Brass gave a thoughtful nod and then fell silent, busying himself with his coffee. Unsure how to go on from there, Nick emptied a couple of milk jiggers into his coffee and did the same. Silence built between them, but Nick didn't break it. Idle talk wasn't his thing, and he knew that Brass would open up if and when he was good and ready. He didn't have to wait long.

"I'm thinking of taking a little time off," Brass said, "some time to recoup."

Nick looked up, tried to keep a level tone. "Yeah?"

"Head East, back to Jersey." Brass opened his hands out. "I mean, there's the house sale to take care of, and Nancy didn't have a will. I guess she didn't reckon on…" His gaze averted and he sighed, "…dying. Well, not yet anyway."

"Some time off might be a good thing," Nick said, wanting to diffuse Brass's awkwardness.

"Yeah." Brass put his spoon down and picked up his coffee which he brought to his lips.

"Have you been to see Ellie?"

Brass nodded as he took a sip.

"How is she?"

Brass swallowed. His shoulder lifted. "Unrepentant." He put his cup down. "She wouldn't see me. I mean, I get that she had…grievances, you know? But to go as far as killing Nancy, her own mother? All these innocent people? I don't know. That takes some serious…" Brass swallowed and let his words drift with a shake of his head before looking away at the passing traffic to hide his growing distress.

Nick remained silent; how does one reconcile oneself with the knowledge that your own child can commit a crime as vile, as evil and despicable as Ellie's? The waitress came, carrying Nick's juice and their plates. After setting everything down in front of them, she bid them a good meal and moved on to the next table. Nick picked up his cutlery which he unfolded out of his napkin, and dug into his food.

After a while, Brass followed suit, but at a more leisurely pace. "I mean, coming after me," he said, waving his knife and fork about, seemingly taking up where he'd left off, "I could get my head round it. I mean, I kind of would have expected it, but…"

Again words failed him, and turning his attention to his food he let out a long sigh and pinched his lips tightly together. He put down his cutlery again and looked away from his plate. His eyes shone with a film of tears. If Brass had been Sara or Greg he would have known what to say, what to do, but there with Brass Nick could only look around the diner helplessly, all thoughts of eating breakfast out of his mind.

"I can't help but blame myself," Brass went on and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, and Nick refocused. "I mean, I did this, didn't I? I left. I broke the family up. Couldn't accept Nancy's betrayal when I was no better. All Ellie's anger, her hatred at the world, her mother, me, it's all my fault, isn't it?"

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but before he could do so Brass lifted his hand toward him. "Don't answer that, please," he said. "I know what you're going to say, so don't say it. I know it. I know I didn't _make_ her do these things, but it doesn't make accepting it any easier. It's just something else I got to learn to live with."

Pondering his next words carefully, Nick shifted in his seat. "Have you stopped to think that maybe Ellie killed Nancy because she blamed _her_ for the breakup of your family and for the way she turned out, rather than you? I know Ellie isn't your daughter, Jim."

"She is."

"You know what I mean," Nick defended, and paused. "Does Ellie know?"

Brass got his meaning straightaway. "That I'm not her real father? We never told her, but who knows? She's never said anything to me or her mom, but the way she looked at me in that hotel room when I found Nancy dead…" Brass's sigh was as long and despondent as his headshake.

"Maybe on some level," Nick went on softly, "she wanted to be your daughter and not the product of some sordid affair."

Brass laughed, quietly at first and then more heartily. "I doubt it very much," he said, "but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Hear me out," Nick insisted, laughter in his voice too. "I know she went about it the wrong way, but she came to live in Vegas when she could have stayed in Jersey."

"And what a life she led."

Nick waved Brass's objection away. "But don't you see? That's beside the point."

Brass sobered up. "You know what the sad thing is? She's still my daughter, and I love her. Even after what she's done I want to protect her, do anything in my power to keep her safe. I know she's going to spend the rest of her life in a maximum security prison, but I can't turn my back on her. I just can't bring myself to…give up on her. And the job, well, how can I reconcile the two?"

"You're not thinking of quitting, are you?" Nick tried to make light of his question but his worry and concern came through nonetheless.

Brass's eyes flickered down from Nick's face, then back up. Muscles twitched in his jaw. He didn't answer, and Nick knew the captain had considered – or was considering – the possibility.

"'Cause you know, we've all been there. Well, I have anyway. Twice, as you well know. Made an ass of myself both times." Giving a nervous laugh, Nick fixed his gaze to the waitress serving coffee at the next table and let the recollections come. "That day in the forest with McKeen…" he clamped his mouth shut and turned back toward Brass. "…well, you were there. You saw."

Brass gave a nod, scratched at his eye. "I'm not going to quit. Not really."

"That's good to know."

"I mean, what would I do?" Brass's shoulder lifted; he tried a smile. "I'm the job, and I'll die on the job one way or another." His smile broadened slightly, and he pointed at his food. "Of a heart attack while in hot pursuit, most probably." The men shared a small laugh, before Brass's face darkened again. "I just need to…"

"Recuperate," Nick provided when Brass faltered.

"Yeah." Brass smiled again. "Recuperate, that's a good word." Picking up his cutlery, he began cutting into his steak. "Come on," he said, bringing a piece to his mouth, "let's eat. My steak's going cold."


End file.
